


Visiting hours

by maevesdarling



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 14:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevesdarling/pseuds/maevesdarling
Summary: (...)He comes to him in the night, reeking of rum, fire and death.(...) The lights had been dimmed hours ago, not that anyone had realized. Sleep wouldn't come to the men, who were shaking in their beds. Occasionally, a loud sniffling sound echoed through the room.(...)Hartving hurt/comfort post Carnival





	Visiting hours

**Author's Note:**

> Another Sunday, another fanfic, this one is really short, school is keeping me really busy. But anyway, here's some established relationship, hurt/comfort. I just really want the boys to comfort each other after Carnival.

He comes to him in the night, reeking of rum, fire and death. His face is stained in tears, traces of something that could be vomit clinging to his short brown beard.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, not that anyone had realized. Sleep wouldn't come to the men, who were shaking in their beds. Occasionally, a loud sniffling sound echoed through the room.

Nobody cared when the young man snuck out of his hammock, walking through the narrow halls on legs that felt like jelly. His hands shook so hard it took him two tries to get a hold of the door handle.

He knocked once, waiting for an answer. It felt like hours passed before the softest "come in" could be heard, so faintly, anyone else who might have heard it could have mistaken it for the wind.

He pushed the handle down and entered.

The room was dark, not a single candle was burning, they had seen enough fire today, even the small candle light was enough to send their hearts running. " 'cant sleep." Tom mumbled, fumbling with his coat. The seaman had accustomed to sleep fully clothed ever since the ships had ran out of coal. It was just too cold to dress down in the night. But here in the lieutenants quarters, it was still surprisingly warm.

"Me neither." John replied and threw the covers off his body. He swung his legs over the side of his berth and crossed the short distance. "You've got something on your face." He murmured into Tom's ear. "Wait let me…"

In a matter of seconds, John had produced a bowl of water and a wet rag from somewhere. "Mister Gibson-" He explained when he noticed Tom's frown. "Please, sit on the bed."

Tom wanted to protest him. He didn't wanted to sit on John's bed, the lieutenant shouldn't have to do this task. Clean him up like steward, it was beneath him. Yet, his feet moved on their own accord as he sat down on the soft berth.

The first touch of the cold, wet rag made him flinch, a wheeze escaping his chapped lips. "Shhh, it's just me." John reminded him softly. "I was worried when I lost you in the crowd." He said.

" 'went with Peglar. We kept an eye on each other." Tom replied. His throat burned from the smoke. "Yes, of course you did." John said more to himself.

The rag traced over the outline of his beard before it was dipped back into the water and returned to his forehead, his eyes, his throat. Only when John was sure there was no soot, no grime left, did he let go of the rag.

It slipped to the ground with a wet splash and both men knew that it was a mistake to leave it there because the water would freeze and create a frozen puddle but they were both so _tired_.

"Lift your legs." John commanded him and again, Tom's body reacted almost on itself. The lieutenant worked his boots off, his fingertips tracing patterns in the exposed flesh. Tom's eyelids fluttered close. The fingers wandered higher and higher until the reached his kneecaps. "I thought I lost you." John's voice sounded choked up all of sudden. He bend down to press a kiss to Tom's knee before he rose to lay beside him.

Their bodies shuffled around on the dinky bed to find a good position. Neither of them was small and the bed was made for one man. They ended up with Tom on his stomach, body half splayed out on top of John's. Their legs tangled together underneath the bedsheets.

The lieutenants hands dipped under his shirt and wandered up his back, sending shivers through the seaman's body. The hands stilled when they traced the faint scars on his back, freshly healed. A few days earlier and Tom would have gasped in pain. Now all he felt was numbness. "I'm sorry." John whispered into his ear, Tom's face was pressed into the crook of his neck. "No, I deserved it. 'was stupid, should have never went with Hickey." John stayed silent. Tom knew he was right, he never should have left the ship on his own. It was stupid and he had paid for it.

Sometimes when the weather got colder, if that was even possible in this place, his back would act up. The thin lines would tingle or worse, burn ever so slightly. It felt like ants roamed his back. The sheer idea of microscopical bugs on him made his heart race.

"We should sleep." John's voice startled him from his thoughts. "I can't sleep. E- every time I close my eyes I see… I see them." They both knew that with them he meant their unlucky crewmates who had died in the fire. "I can still smell it. It's everywhere. I- I think I'm going to be sick." He groaned, tears streaming over his cheeks. He pressed a hand tightly against his mouth took keep himself from throwing up. "Tom, listen to me, we're fine, we made it. It's over, okay? It's all over and you're still alive and- and I'm so proud of you, my little angel."

"Huh, never called me that before." Tom sniffled and gave a wet laugh. "My, an angel, John? Isn't that blasphemous?" John's hands found his slightly outgrown, brown hair. Softly, he traded his hands through strands of hair. "Never. Not if it's you." And with that he pressed their lips together for a short, but passionate kiss.

After trading lazy kisses for a minute or two, Tom snuggled deeper into the blankets, his breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
